


Until I See You

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: American Revolution, Blind John Laurens, Blindness, Fluff and Angst, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-10-30 05:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Left blind after an explosion, John Laurens is still determined to fight for his country. And his fellow soldier (read: boyfriend) Alexander promises to be there every step of the way.Alternatively: that one hella depressing AU from tumblr





	1. It's so dark outside

John knew it was over the second he was hit by the blast. This was it, wasn't it? The end. At least he'd gone out fighting for freedom. It was a small explosion, but it was more than enough to send him flying across the battlefield. Dimly, he was aware of someone landing next to him, and more people rushing to their aid. He hoped one of them was Alexander. Wait, Alexander. This couldn't be the end. He closed his eyes against the growing pain in his arm and head and concentrated on the thought of his fellow soldier; Alexander's hand wrapping around his for the slightest of instant when they passed each other, Alexander's small, determined smile as they went into battle, Alexander staring at him when they were supposed to be stargazing, Alexander's profile outlined against the sunrise. Alexander. John couldn't die and leave him.  
Someone lifted him onto a stretcher. He felt himself drifting off into unconsciousness, the pain in his head overwhelming. But he'd have to wake up. He'd have to see Alexander again…  
***  
John opened his eyes. Then closed them. Then opened them again. Then closed them. Or at least that's what he thought he did. The darkness didn't change no matter what he did. The night must be pitch black, he thought. His arm still hurt- he could feel the bandages rubbing against whatever injury he had- but at least his head felt better.  
There was murmuring around him. After a few moments, he recognized Alexander's voice, then General Washington’s. If he strained, he could make out some of what they were saying.  
“You don't have any medical experience, Hamilton-”  
“Look at him and tell me he's not going to need help. I can help him. Who gives a damn about my experience?”  
“Son, fighting this war is hard enough-”  
“For the last time, I'm not your son. Oh, he's waking up.” There were footsteps towards him. Alexander's footsteps. “Laurens,” he said quietly.  
“Hamilton. Did we win the battle?”  
“No. But we're planning another attack on a British camp.”  
“You should go to sleep,” John mumbled, falling back against the pillows. “It's so dark outside.”  
“John, it's the middle of… I mean…” Alexander trailed off, his breath hitching. “There was an accident.”  
“I know, the explosion. I hurt my arm. Could we light a candle, or something?”  
Washington spoke. “Laurens, you've sustained some head trauma. I'm afraid that you are, at least for the time being, blind.”  
John let out a small gasp. Blinked a few times, just in case. Looked in the direction of Alexander's voice. Would he ever see him again? He could picture Alex perfectly in his mind, but mental images can fade. What if he never got to draw again? The space under his bed was full of sketches. And what about stargazing? He hadn't realized how much of his life relied on sight. Suddenly someone's arms were around him. He took in a shuddering breath and bit back his tears as best he could. “What does this mean for my position?” he asked Washington.  
“I'm afraid that I'm going to have to hand over your command to someone else.”  
“I can still do something, though. Right?”  
Washington sighed. John could hear him pacing. Thank god he wasn't deaf, too. “I don't see what you could do, Laurens.”  
“We'll think of something,” Alexander whispered in his ear. Then louder, “I'm going to resign from my position as aide-de-camp to help you.”  
“Hamilton, we haven't discussed this-”  
“He's going to need all the help he can get, fighting blind.”  
Washington let out another sigh. “See me in my office later today.”  
Then Alexander and John were alone. Alexander leaned down and gave John a gentle kiss, running his fingers through the taller man's hair. “It'll be okay,” he murmured.  
“How?” John asked through a veil of tears.  
“I'll be here,” Alexander replied. “I can convince Washington to let me become a medical assistant. They'll find a job for you. And maybe, someday, you'll get your sight back. But even if you don't, I'll be here.”  
“Eliza might have other ideas.”  
Alexander was quiet for a few moments. There was nothing for John but the feeling of the sheets and bandages and Alexander, and the sound of ragged breathing from both of them. Then, through the darkness: “She's only my wife, John. You are quite a bit more than that.”  
***  
He dictated a letter to Lafayette. And one to his sister. And, reluctantly, one to his father. As he listened to Alexander's pen scratching across the paper, he realized he might never get to read another letter from him. Having someone read them aloud to him was out of the question.  
He had moved back to his normal bunk a few days ago. Washington had given him a position helping with strategy. Slowly, a new kind of daily life was being created for him. And the only good part about it was that there was significantly more Alexander in it.  
With a final scratch over the paper, Alexander finished the last letter. “I’ll have these sent,” he said, his voice a sudden change from the otherwise quiet bunk.  
“Where is everybody?” John asked.  
“Attacking a British camp.”  
John sighed. “You should have gone with them. Washington will never give you command if you stay back with me while everyone else is fighting.”  
“Washington understands how important this is to me,” Alexander replied, each word carefully enunciated. “Besides, it’s only one battle. We’re not going to win the war by beating maybe a hundred soldiers, are we?”  
A gunshot rang outside. John flinched.  
“You’re alright, Laurens. It’s far away, whatever’s happening.”  
John couldn’t see, but he had a clear image of what Hamilton looked like at the moment. Giving John a small, absent smile, his hair falling around his shoulders, eyes lit up by the lamplight, looking at John like he was the only thing visible in the entire world. He might only have daydreams of Alexander, but he had enough of them to last a lifetime. It didn’t make anything about the situation even remotely better, it just made the horror of the matter more bearable.  
Another gunshot pierced the silence. It would have been sudden for anyone, but now anything John heard could be happening miles or yards away, and he might not know the difference. He took a steadying breath and held his hand out. In less than a second Alexander’s fingers had laced tightly through his, fitting perfectly, just like always.  
“I’m here,” Hamilton said, a candle in the dark silence. “I’m always here.”


	2. Not a place to travel to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just researched homophobia in the 1700s for an hour straight and i learned some v interesting facts for instance  
> -Thomas Jefferson, infamous rapist, was the one who pushed for harsher punishment against rapists  
> -Walt Whitman had a notebook where he wrote down descriptions of hot dudes he saw  
> -London had a weirdly high amount of gay brothels (especially in Victorian times)  
> -Although homosexuality was technically illegal under sodomy laws, the first actual trial for homosexuality wasn't until 1880 and most sodomy cases had to do more with rape and pedophilia than anything else  
> no one needed to know these facts at all but they're cool so enjoy

John’s life had some new additions; most of them involved Alexander. Hamilton was always there, his arm around John’s shoulders, guiding him through the camp. Another addition to John’s life was the realization that navigating blind was much harder than he thought it would be when he claimed he could do it.   
He’d tried to start sketching again, a few days after the battle. Alexander had said it was good, but John had heard him lie enough to know it wasn’t truthful. So he gave his supplies to a newer soldier, another artist, someone who would use them. He wished he could see the drawings the other soldier made. He wished he could keep fighting, instead of sitting in Washington’s office talking strategies. He wished Alexander never had to go to battle, leaving him waiting to hear whether or not he had lived. He wished, he wished, he wished. If John could still see the stars they would have all been wished on within one night. He wouldn’t go stargazing with Alexander and Lafayette anymore. Before Laf went back to France they’d do it all the time, spend the entire night in an empty field, talking. It was the only time they could speak without the social rules and etiquette they were constantly surrounded by. And now he’d never get to watch the sun rise over the hills in the distance again, or watch Alexander’s smile as he laughed until he couldn’t breathe at something Lafayette had muttered in French. John thought about the things that would never happen a lot.  
Lafayette had responded to the letter John had sent him. Alexander had read some of it out loud to him during breakfast one morning, and the rest while they were alone. Laf wasn’t exactly the most family-friendly when it came to writing. He made a promise to come back to America as soon as he could. There was another letter enclosed for Washington, which happened every time they received something from the Frenchman. John delivered it the day after the letter came, Alexander at his side.  
John had to admit that was an advantage to losing his sight. Alexander had become even more constant than he had been before. Guiding him everywhere around the camp. Defending his right to be there to everyone who challenged it. Alexander had gotten into more duels in the past few weeks than he had since arriving in America, which is a feat that seemed impossible to accomplish.   
“You don’t need to try and kill everyone who insults me,” John told him one night, after everyone else had fallen asleep and Alexander had snuck into his bunk.  
“I know,” Alexander murmured into John’s shoulder. “I consider it a privilege, not a need.”  
“I consider it a privilege that I’m not going to have to watch you get shot in another pointless fight,” John shot back.  
“It’s called chivalry, Laurens.”  
“Really? In South Carolina they called it stupidity.”  
Alexander laughed softly and shifted his position. John felt his breathing slow as they both drifted closer to sleep.   
“Hamilton?” John whispered.  
“Hmmmm.”  
“Why aren’t you going home?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Your wife is pregnant. You barely even fight anymore, because you’re always here at camp with me. At this rate Washington is more likely to promote Burr to lead a battalion than he is you. The only thing keeping you at camp is-”  
“You,” Hamilton finished. “You’re right. But Eliza…” Hamilton sighed. “I love her as much as you’d expect. But you…” he brushed John’s hair out of his face. “Home is beginning to feel less like a place I need to travel to, Lieutenant.”   
John let out a small laugh. “How romantic,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can see why half the women in the colonies wish they were in the same position as your wife.”  
“Only half?” Alexander replied. “Clearly I don’t have the skills I thought I did, if it’s only half.”  
“The number is much greater if you include the men, Hamilton.”  
John could practically feel the grin on Alexander’s face. “I suppose you’re right.”  
***  
Alexander guided John through the camp, occasionally narrating the things going on around them. Sometimes it was useful things: “the scouts have just returned, and it doesn’t look like any are missing,” or “they’ve just brought a new British prisoner into camp.” More often it was the things John had no use for other than it made him feel slightly more included in the world: “there’s too many clouds, you couldn’t see the sunrise,” “that boy you gave your art supplies to left a drawing on your bunk. It’s pretty good,” or John’s favorite, “Lee just fell on his face. Tripped over nothing. He’s landed in a puddle.”  
Lee had become even more of a nuisance since John had lost his sight. Or, more accurately, since Alexander had started assisting John more often. The colonel had always taken every opportunity to either make fun of or pry into their relationship, and it had only gotten worse over the past weeks. John was beginning to suspect Lee had seen or heard something he shouldn’t have. If he had, both Laurens and Hamilton were in a dangerous position. They could both be court martialed, or worse. No matter how common it may be, what they had was still punishable by death in the colonies. And even if it was never mentioned to any officials, word could still easily get back to his family, his father… John shuddered at the thought.   
“Good morning, Laurens. Hamilton,” called a nasally voice from behind John.  
“It’s Lee,” Hamilton whispered, steering him to face the colonel.  
“I’m aware,” John muttered back.  
“It’s safe to assume neither of you will be joining us on the mission to stop a British supply wagon,” Lee said haughtily.  
“Surely you were aware I’m leading it,” Hamilton shot back, his voice the level of cold he usually reserved for duels and battles.   
“I- I was not- you are?” Lee stuttered.  
John smirked.  
“You appointed him, didn’t you? It would make sense.”  
“I advised it, yes, but General Washington gives the orders,” John said.  
“Who is going to babysit you while Hamilton is away?” Lee asked.  
“Laurens is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, Charles.”  
“Laurens is also perfectly capable of speaking for himself, Alexander,” John hissed. Then he addressed Lee again. “But Hamilton is right. I will be more than okay on my own for a day or two.”  
Lee laughed. “You two argue like a married couple.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away.  
John listened to the retreating footsteps, anger growing in his chest. “Him, you’re allowed to duel.”  
Hamilton wrapped his arm around John’s waist. “I think your spar with him was good enough, yeah? Come on, let’s go check on the preparations for the mission.”  
John bit his lip and thought about Lee. What if he had seen those letters? Or worse, seen him and Alexander together? The only thing stopping him from telling Washington would be the opportunity for blackmail. John pulled Alexander’s arm away. “I think we should be more careful,” he said.  
“Careful? About what?”  
“You don’t think Lee suspects anything?”  
Hamilton scoffed. “I think that Lee likes making us believe he knows more than he does. And I think that I made out with Lafayette for five minutes straight in a bar once, and the general consensus is still that I strictly prefer women, so believe me, it will take quite a lot more than what we’re doing to arouse any suspicion.”  
John laughed and nodded as they continued down the rows of barracks. Still, though, his mind wandered back to the letters in his mattress. He could have left one out after rereading them. He could have not remade his bed, leaving the slice in the mattress almost too easy to see. Any number of mistakes could have been made. “I still think Lee knows something,” he said under his breath.  
“He doesn’t. Trust me,” Alexander replied, and John couldn’t help but trust.


End file.
